


Size Queen

by palavin



Series: Size Queen [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Size Difference, Size Kink, Two Shot, Unintentional size queen keith, keith: him ... big
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-06 11:36:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15885252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palavin/pseuds/palavin
Summary: Turns out Shiro has a really, really big dick. Keith struggles to cope with this fact. Set sometime before season 3.“I can’t fucking take Shiro’s ginormous fucking dick!” he snaps suddenly, and then physicallyfeelsall the blood rush to his face. Keith ducks his head, knocking his forehead against the table. He continues on miserably anyways, whacking his head all the while. “It’s so fucking huge. Not even just thick, guys. It’s — it’slong. Eight or more inches. God.” Bang. “Damnit.”“Good morning Keith,” Pidge says, walking in. “I take it you’re scarring my mind extra early this morning.”Keith isn’t listening. He’s wallowing in self-pity. “And he’s always so — so hard — “





	1. Chapter 1

Keith wakes up alone.

His hand smacks over to Shiro’s side of the bed. The sheets there are neatly tucked in, and he finds the spot completely cold and empty. He takes a moment in pissed off silence before some part of his brain racks up the memory of Shiro kissing his cheek and whispering that he had some sort of meeting with Allura, but the hour was too odd for Keith to properly remember.

Now Keith’s alone, grumpy, and also left to deal with his morning wood by himself.

There isn’t much he can personally do about that first and second part, but he takes a shower to take care of the last part.

Shiro says Keith can be an absolute bear in the morning, and Keith has come to begrudgingly accept that Shiro is right. Getting him up before eight is impossible. Getting him up before ten is a struggle. There’s no such thing as a good-tempered Keith anytime before noon.

Keith stumbles to the pseudo-kitchen where they take and prepare their meals. He’s still half asleep, and glares daggers when he spots Lance and Hunk huddled at the table, watching something on Lance’s tablet that looks suspiciously like cat videos.

They warily watch Keith settle into his chair. Keith stares blankly at nothing, fuming.

Why does Shiro go to meetings alone with Allura, anyways, and why —

He shakes those thoughts away. He’s tired and grumpy, but he isn’t  _stupid_. First, Shiro is really, really fucking gay. And second, it isn’t that they choose to have those meetings alone. Everyone’s invited, but nobody except Allura and Shiro show up anyways.

“So,” Lance says, whistling casually. He and Hunk share a look, and then Lance grabs two bowls of goo, gingerly setting one in front of Keith. “Can’t help but notice that you’re a little more crabby this morning than usual.”

Fuck Lance, and fuck him  _especially_  for being a morning person.

“Fuck off,” Keith says waspishly, stabbing his goo with his spoon. It doesn’t work very well, considering spoons aren’t necessarily made for stabbing, but Keith has never met a utensil that he hasn’t been able to make dangerous somehow.

The truth is that something _is_ bothering him, and while half of it has to do with the fact that he woke up alone at nine AM, the other half is … really fucking dumb.

“Hey,” Hunk says warmly, placing a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Don’t push us away, man. We’re here for you.”

Keith glares at the goo dispenser like it’s the one that’s personally wronged him. His resolve is crumbling. A beat passes, while Keith wallows in furious silence, and then —

“I can’t fucking take Shiro’s ginormous fucking dick!” he snaps suddenly, and then physically _feels_  all the blood rush to his face. Keith ducks his head, knocking his forehead against the table. He continues on miserably anyways, whacking his head all the while. “It’s so fucking huge. Not even just thick, guys. It’s — it’s  _long_. Eight or more inches. God.” Bang. “ _Damnit._ ”

“Good morning Keith,” Pidge says, walking in. “I take it you’re scarring my mind extra early this morning.”

Keith isn’t listening. He’s wallowing in self-pity. “And he’s always so — so hard — “

“Yeah, no, Keith, you should have just pushed us away,” Hunk says, chair creaking as he leans back to stare unseeingly at the ceiling. “Huh.”

“I mean,” Lance says, and everyone’s day gets just a little bit worse. “Like, we knew all of that already. Guys, don’t look at me like that, c’mon. We’ve all noticed.”

Keith’s head shoots up, eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Keith,” Pidge says slowly. “He wears sweatpants when he trains us.”

What is that supposed to mean? They all wear sweatpants when they train. He doesn’t understand where she’s going with this, and it shows on his face.

“Keith, my buddy, my man,” Lance sighs, patting his shoulder. “We’ve all seen that dick print.”

There are only a few moments in Keith’s life when he’s had absolute clarity about anything. Currently, he has an epiphany or two. _Of course_  they know about Shiro’s ridiculous dick, Keith thinks. It’s kind of hard to miss sometimes.

“Oh,” he says eloquently.

"Oh," Lance echoes, mocking.

“So,” Pidge says, and she’s so brave. “Let’s review this. You’re grumpy because Shiro’s dick is big and you can’t — what — have sex?”

Keith nods. “That’s the problem. We have sex, but I always top.”

Lance spits out his water, and it sprays everywhere, including onto Pidge. “ _What_?!”

“Keith tops?” Hunk asks, his eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. He leans back again. “Wow. Alright then.”

Keith scowls, even as Pidge wipes her face with a napkin and throws it at Lance. She beats Keith to the punch. “First, Lance, you’re going to pay for that,” she begins, and Lance shrinks back. “Second, Keith, aren’t there like … ways you can work up to it?”

“Tell me this isn’t a conversation we’re having,” Hunk says,  _begs,_  really.

“What conversation are you having?” Shiro asks as he walks in. Like always, Keith’s mouth runs a little dry every time he sees him, and it must show on his face, because Shiro’s lips quirk and he presses a casual kiss to Keith’s temple before retrieving a bowl of goo for himself.

“Nothing,” Keith says, staring furiously at everyone else and begging them to make a comment.

Thankfully, nobody does.

Shiro frowns. “Alright,” he says, unconvinced, and takes a seat next to Keith. “How was your morning, baby? I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

Keith swallows. Shiro’s always so earnest and doting, and it does things to him. It makes him want to take Shiro’s ginormous fucking dick, except that’s the problem, because Keith  _can’t_.

“Good,” Keith says instead, short, and Shiro frowns again. Keith swallows, moving to lace their fingers together under the table. And then, more honest: “Missed you.”

Shiro’s eyes shine. His smile lights up the room. “I missed you too,” he murmurs, leaning in.

Three people clear their throats simultaneously. When both Shiro and Keith glance over, they see enough pointed glares to make them reluctantly pull back. Keith laments not getting a proper good morning kiss.

“So, fearless leader,” Lance says, and Keith’s entire heart drops. “Keith told us you’ve got a problem, and — “

Keith doesn’t think. He just reacts. He jumps over the table, slapping a hand over Lance’s face. He holds Lance down as he squirms, and he winces when his knee squishes in a bowl of goo.

Shiro watches the entire scene, baffled. “A — A problem?” he asks, uncertain.

Lance’s mouth moves around Keith’s fingers. He licks his palm. Keith gags, but he keeps his hand firmly planted.

“Yeah,” Keith says, the intensity of his glare actually causing Lance to shrink back. He reluctantly moves his hand, cautious. Keith turns to give Shiro a soft smile, still half-sprawled across the table. “Just … told them about how much you hate the toothpaste here.”

Shiro blinks. “The toothpaste,” he repeats.

“Yeah.”

“You — you actually said that, and then expected me to believe it,” Shiro says, incredulous, almost in wonder.

Keith’s knee squelches in the bowl of goo, and he barely contains his shudder. “Apparently it’s a common problem,” he says, sending a menacing stare to the rest of the paladins. “Right, guys?”

Silence. Awkward, horrible silence.

“Can’t stand it,” Hunk says.

“Makes me sick,” Pidge agrees.

“I just don’t even brush my teeth anymore,” Lance squeaks, and everyone whips around to stare at him. “Okay, yeah, bit much. I don’t know. It’s bad. Don’t hurt me?”

Keith nods, and then sits back down next to Shiro, grabbing a napkin to wipe the goo off of his knee. He gives his boyfriend a placating smile that’s probably more terrifying than anything else. “See? Nothing’s wrong.”

Shiro sighs, reaching to grab another handful of napkins. He helps Keith wipe the mess off of his knee. When they finish, he looks up, eyebrows raised. “Alright. You don’t have to tell me,” he says, but he sounds … dejected. Keith’s heart just about shatters. “Hey, baby, it’s fine. Just tell me if something is bothering you, okay?”

Keith nods sort of numbly. “Yeah.”

Shiro presses a chaste kiss to his lips, and finishes his bowl of goo before he whispers something about meeting back with Allura and Coran to run diagnostics on the castle’s defense system. When he’s gone, Keith doesn’t even wait a second before he’s punching his fist as hard as he can into Lance’s shoulder.

Lance yelps, falling out of his chair. “Hey!”

“You can’t tell him it’s bothering me,” Keith snaps, shaking his fist. God, Lance literally is just skin and bone. Keith feels like he punched a fucking rock. Everyone’s staring at him in confusion, and Keith flushes, peevish. “It’s Shiro, guys. Of course it — it makes him feel bad that we can’t fuck like that. He’d feel worse if he knew it bothered me.”

“That is so Shiro,” Hunk says, nodding. “Also, do you think the Alteans left any brain bleach lying around somewhere?”

“Wait,” Pidge interrupts, holding up a finger to silence him. “Isn’t it sort of worse not to tell him?”

Lance rubs his shoulder, leaning away from Keith. “Yeah, dude. You should probably tell him.”

“It won’t change anything,” Keith says, waspish. And then, softer, with  _feeling_ : “He has a  _really_ big dick, guys.”

“No, we got that part,” Hunk says, looking like he wished he didn’t. “He’s just like, casually, the ultimate dude.”

“He really is,” Keith says, nodding sagely.

“Anyways,” Pidge interrupts. “You really should talk to him about it.”

“Since when did you give out good relationship advice?” Lance asks, rolling up his sleeves. “Is someone courting our youngest paladin?!”

Hunk and Keith lean forwards, interested, and now they’re all plotting the demise of whoever this mystery person is.

Pidge rolls her eyes. “No, you guys are just idiots. As soon as Keith tells Shiro, Shiro will fix it somehow, and then we never have to hear about Shiro’s dick again.”

Lance sits back in his seat, considering. “That’s actually genius.”

Pidge adjusts her glasses, smug.

Keith stares at the ceiling morosely. “You guys don’t understand. I can’t even wrap my hand around it.”

“Be that as it may,” Lance begins. His hand waves flippantly in a gesture that’s probably supposed to mean something, but Keith just watches on in confusion. “This is Shiro.”

“What does that mean?” Keith asks, at a complete loss.

“Dude,” Hunk laughs, his head knocking back. “If something’s really bothering you, he’ll find a way to fix it.”

“He’s sort of hopelessly in love with you,” Pidge agrees, shrugging. “In case you haven’t noticed.”

Keith does have to accept the fact that Shiro is, in fact, hopelessly lost on him. The fact that Shiro is willing to bottom literally every time is proof of that, considering he doesn’t like to. And of course, Shiro pretends like he loves bottoming, but Keith can see right through him. Keith’s had more than enough fingers in his ass at one time to know how much Shiro likes giving it more than taking it.

“Okay,” Keith says, and he’s surprised when he means it. “Guess I’ll … talk to him or something.”

“Good,” Pidge says.

“Glad to hear it,” Lance replies.

“And, Keith?” Hunk says.

“Yeah, Hunk?”

“You’re going to pay for ruining my breakfast,” Hunk mentions warmly. His bowl of goo lays spilled on the table with an imprint of Keith's knee in it.

Keith nods slowly. It’s what he deserves.

***

Keith doesn’t mention what’s bothering him for another couple of days.

It’s not on  _purpose_. He doesn’t mean to brush off Shiro’s concern, or his comments on how tense Keith is. They don’t even fuck, which is extraordinary in and of itself, but Shiro reluctantly realizes Keith needs some time with his thoughts, and he wisely doesn’t comment on it. And if Keith wakes up with Shiro’s enormous dick pressed against the crack of his ass each morning, neither of them comment on that, either.

It all comes to a head three days after the conversation Keith had with Pidge, Lance, and Hunk.

Keith’s rinsing off a days worth of sweat off his body. He’s been training with the combat simulator all day to try and relieve some of his frustration, but it only ends up winding him up worse.

The shower is scorching, but that does nothing to distract Keith from where his thoughts wander. He imagines himself seated fully on Shiro’s lap, huge dick pressed all the way inside of him. Shiro’s hair would be plastered to his face with sweat, his eyes full of love and devotion, but they’d be dark with heat too, and he’d pull out to  _really_  give it to Keith —

Keith starts as the shower door opens, and he’s greeted to the sight of Shiro and all of his muscles on full display. Shiro smiles sheepishly and steps in, and Keith doesn’t even waste a second before he wraps around him like a limpet.

“Hey, baby,” Shiro says, kissing Keith’s wet hair. He doesn’t even flinch at the heat of the shower. “Did I scare you?”

“Not really,” Keith says, burying his face in the crook between Shiro’s neck and shoulder. “I’ve been training all day,” he explains, and he loves that Shiro gets that, too.

Training always puts him on edge. Especially when he goes as hard as he did.

“I wondered where you went,” Shiro muses, directing them both under the spray. He reaches for the bottle of shampoo, but the gesture is aborted when Keith shifts, and his very hard dick rubs against Shiro’s thigh.

“Sorry,” Keith murmurs, embarrassed. It’s been awhile. He doesn’t meet Shiro’s eyes.

“Don’t be sorry,” Shiro laughs, almost relieved. His Galra hand settles on Keith’s hip, considering, while his flesh hand wraps around Keith’s length. Keith starts, breath hitching. “Let me take care of you?”

Keith nods. “You always do,” he manages, and Shiro’s eyes are so soft and full of love that Keith can’t help but pull him into an all consuming kiss. Meanwhile, Shiro’s touch has gone from teasing to gratifying, and Keith sighs into Shiro’s mouth, hips twitching up while that big hand jacks him.

He’s glad they’re in the shower, because Shiro can’t tease him about the mess his dick is making. Precome leaks everywhere, but the evidence is thankfully washed away down the drain.

Shiro noses at his neck, kissing the skin there and down. He gently bites the skin on Keith’s shoulder, soothing the ache with the gentle glide of his tongue. Keith is burning hot between the heat of the water and Shiro’s body, and he reaches down to grab Shiro’s dick, too.

Huge. Absolutely fucking ginormous. And really, really hard.

Shiro’s hips twitch involuntarily, and he groans into Keith’s neck. “Feels good, baby. Just like that.”

Keith nods, leaning back against the wall of the shower and putting some distance between them. He shares a heated look with Shiro before he glances down, and it’s almost obscene how big his dick is compared to Keith’s hand. And then Shiro does that thing that Keith likes, a twist of the wrist on the upstroke, and Keith can’t help it.

“God, I want your dick in me,” he says bluntly, full of heat and zero common-sense, and both of them freeze.

It’s a little bit of a sore subject between them. Half the reason Keith’s been avoiding saying anything is because it bothers Shiro so much, and obviously there’s not much they can do about it that they haven’t already tried.

Shiro slumps a little, and Keith wants to smack a hand over his face.

“Baby, you know we can’t,” Shiro says glumly. He's stopped moving his hand, and Keith hopes he didn’t kill the mood. God, what timeline is he living in where he kills the mood by asking his boyfriend to fuck him?

Apparently, the timeline where Shiro’s dick is absolutely,  _ridiculously_  large.

“I — I know,” Keith manages, glaring hotly at the shower tile. The pattern is ugly.

Shiro sighs. “I just don’t want to hurt you, okay? Hey, come on,” he murmurs, voice so soft, like he’s cornering a small woodland creature. Shiro’s palm cups Keith’s jaw, and his thumb sweeps across his cheek, gentle and soothing. His dark grey eyes are so tender. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, Keith does. “I just — I know you want to fuck me,” he says, and Shiro’s thumb stops rubbing soothing circles on his cheek. Something guilty settles in his expression. “I know you don’t like bottoming.”

Shiro swallows. “Where’d you get that idea?”

Now Keith scoffs, a little irritated. “Shiro, really?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

“It’s — It’s not that I don’t like it,” Shiro stammers, in a way that clearly says:  _you’re so right and I don’t want to admit it._  “I love being with you, baby. Even if that’s the only way I get you. You know that.”

Figures Shiro would find some way to turn this conversation into something sappy. Keith flushes, pulling Shiro close again and hiding his face in his chest. “Yeah, but … don’t you ever wonder how it would be? You on top for once.”

Shiro’s impressive jaw clenches. When he speaks, his voice is painfully honest, low and deep. “God, baby, all the time.”

And it shouldn’t be reflective on Keith that that makes a full body shiver race up his spine and down again. His hips twitch on their own accord, rutting his dick against the muscle of Shiro’s thigh.

“Tell me,” Keith says, pleading, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s neck. He’s getting worked up more than he should, and the leftover adrenaline running through his system doesn’t help. “I want to know.”

Shiro’s face tells Keith everything he needs to know. He doesn’t  _want_  to want it, doesn’t  _want_  to want something that might hurt Keith. It’s so …  _Shiro_. And then Shiro’s resting his chin on Keith’s head, reaching down to jack him again, and Keith keens.

“Whenever I wake up,” Shiro begins, and Keith realizes Shiro’s been thinking about this a lot more than he’d originally thought. “And you’re still asleep. Don’t you ever wonder why I shower so early?”

“Oh,” Keith says, and suddenly it all makes sense. “You jack off in the shower thinking of fucking me.”

Shiro’s face heats a bit. There’s none of his usual composure there. He bites his lip, and that has Keith melting, too. “And — and when you’re training. I can’t help it, baby. Whenever we spar, too. I just think of pinning you down and — and taking you right there in the training room.”

In all of Keith’s imagination, he would have never thought that Shiro might just want this even  _more_ than he does.

Also, incidentally, it causes him to twitch his hips up into Shiro’s grip, and then he’s coming so abruptly that it blindsides them both. Keith moans, gripping Shiro’s shoulders, and shakes apart in his arms.

“S-Shiro,” Keith manages, and he’s never been particularly loud during sex, but he always makes a point to moan Shiro’s name out at least once, because he knows how much it riles him up.

He comes down from his orgasm to find Shiro pressing reverent kisses to his hair. Keith basks in the attention for a moment.

When he can finally find his voice again, it’s hoarse and raspy. He can feel Shiro’s dick leaking against his hip. “Guess you want it too, then.”

“Not if it hurts you,” Shiro says. His adam's apple bobs. “Nothing’s worth that, Keith.”

“I know,” Keith breathes, wrapping his hand around Shiro’s cock. He knows just how to grip it to drive Shiro wild. “What if we went slow? Like, really, really slow?”

“Baby — “

Keith presses his advantage, moving to lay his own marks on Shiro’s neck over the ones that are fading. “And used a ton of lube?”

“ _Keith_  — “

He goes in for the kill. He looks up under his lashes, which are clumped wetly together from the water, and bites his lip. “Please?”

A heated beat passes, and then —

Shiro nods once, releasing a shaky breath. Keith tries not to crow while he jerks Shiro to climax, but he must not be successful, because Shiro’s scrubbing a hand down his face and looking particularly stressed after spilling all over Keith’s fingers.

Another long beat passes.

“We do it my way,” Shiro says with finality.

Keith nods. “Okay.”

“And we take as long as I want,” Shiro adds.

“Understood.”

“And you’ll tell me if it hurts.”

“Obviously.”

“And — “ Shiro says, pausing, considering. “Not today.”

Keith’s eyebrows furrow in consternation. “What? Shiro, you said — “

“My way,” Shiro reminds him, and Keith sulks. “You’re too worked up today.”

“I’m perfectly relaxed,” Keith says, as his muscles shake from a hard day of training. He’s just being stubborn now, and he knows it. Shiro has a point, and Keith trusts him more than anything. “Fine. Not today.”

“Good,” Shiro says, and then reaches pointedly for the bottle of shampoo again. “Can we finish our shower now?”

Keith kisses him to shut him up, and the water’s cold by the time they’re finished.

***

The next day they have to run training drills. Thankfully, Allura has them in their paladin armor. Now that Keith knows that everyone else can see Shiro's dick print, it makes a small part of him flare up possessively. So he's more than a little relieved when Shiro helps him into his armor, and he helps Shiro in turn, and no sweatpants are involved. If Shiro notices Keith's smug smile, he only quirks a brow and doesn't comment on it.

Keith isn't a total brat. The knowledge that he makes Shiro horny when they train is valuable information, but he doesn't put on a show like he wants to. If he works Shiro up too much, then Shiro won't be comfortable doing this, and then they'll both go to bed horny (Shiro) and disgruntled (Keith). 

They're doing the stupid drill with the drones. He's covering Shiro's 6 o'clock, and he's relieved that Shiro's doing the same. Keith has more than enough miserable memories of those little balls whacking the back of his head because Lance was covering his 6 and got distracted by something or another.

Keith glances towards the large timer on the wall. Great. Only fifteen more minutes of training, and then he and Shiro can finally —

Something whacks Keith square in the back of his head, sending him toppling forwards. He almost faceplants, but he reacts quick enough to catch his balance just as he hits his knees. He rubs the spot blankly, blinking.

"Fuck, baby," Shiro says, kneeling next to him. "I'm sorry."

It doesn't sink in for a long moment. Everyone's staring at them, mouth's agape.

Eventually, Keith finds the presence of mind to speak. "Did you — did you let me get hit?"

Shiro winces, apologetic, using his Galra hand to rub the bump that's forming on the back of Keith's head. The cool metal feels amazing. "Does it hurt? Do you need some ice?"

That isn't a denial, Keith realizes.

Whenever they're doing this exercise, Shiro has never failed to cover all of them. He's even gone out of his way to stop some extra shots that the other paladins would have missed, because Shiro is always focused and attentive and good at literally everything he does. So it's a little unbelievable that the first time he's failed to do so is when it's Keith's back he's protecting.

"Is this real life?" Lance asks, looking to Allura. "Did you set Shiro up for failure?"

Allura flushes in annoyance, her eyebrow twitching. "I did no such thing!"

"These are strange times," Coran says as he twiddles his mustache. "In fact, the drones were only firing at about 40% their capacity!"

That doesn't make Keith feel any better. Shiro's rubbing soothing circles along the bump, eyebrows furrowed like he's cradling Keith's dying body.

"Oh no," Pidge says, watching in dawning horror. 

Shiro's bottom lip trembles. "I'm — I'm really sorry, baby, you know I'd never let anything hurt you — "

Keith cuts him off, reaching up to cup Shiro's impressive jaw. "I know," he murmurs, smiling softly, and that just makes Shiro look even more downcast. "It's alright. I'll make it."

"Guys?" Hunk asks, startling them both from the scene they're creating. "I just — I'm sorry to interrupt, but I think someone needs to say that Keith isn't actually dying."

"Shut up, Hunk," Lance says, knocking his shoulder. "It's like watching a soap opera."

Pidge's eyebrows shoot to her hairline. "Of course you like soap operas."

Allura's face sours. "Why does Lonce like operas about soap?"

"That's not — " Lance sighs, smacking a hand to his face. "You know, never mind."

"Ah, paladins," Coran sighs nostalgically. 

They manage to finish training without anymore Shiro-related incidents, but Shiro withers with guilt every time he looks at Keith. Keith has come to reluctantly accept that tonight is probably not the night that Shiro will fuck him, considering he can barely meet his eyes for the rest of the training session.

"So," Keith says when they're finally back to their room. Shiro's been oddly silent for a long while, staring morosely at the ceiling above their bed. "What had you so distracted?"

Shiro hunkers down. 

"Shiro, I was hit with a squishy ping pong ball."

Nothing.

A long beat passes. Eventually, Shiro speaks. "I was so focused on making sure you didn't get hurt, that I ended up letting you get hurt."

"I told you it's fine," Keith says, moving to sit next to him and rest his hand on Shiro's calf. "I'm not hurt."

"What if — what if it's a sign, and — "

"Shiro," Keith says, with an amount of patience that is truly impressive for him. "Those training drills are fucking useless. We've never been in a situation even close to those drills. And you made one mistake. I just ... happened to be there for it."

"But — how can you trust me to take care of you?" Shiro asks. He's sitting up now, pulling Keith close to his chest and just squishing him there. Keith rests his cheek against the pillows of Shiro's pecs. _Heaven_. "Baby, please."

Keith remembers that Shiro's having some sort of dilemma. He blinks. "You could probably toss me off a bridge and I'd still trust you," Keith says, and Shiro jolts against him.

"What —  _god_ , Keith — what even made you think that would make me feel any better?" Shiro asks, pained.

Keith winces. "It was meant to be romantic."

After that, Shiro's not really feeling up to much of anything that doesn't involve beating himself up over Keith getting pelted with a squishy ping pong ball, so the mood has been efficiently quashed before it even had a chance to begin. By some fortune or luck, Shiro continues to cling to Keith all night, and they fall asleep wrapped up in each other's arms. 

"We'll try some other time," Shiro murmurs, half-asleep, and Keith makes some disgruntled noise and curls closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone: shiro has such bde haha!!!!  
> me, a gremlin: but ... how big
> 
> sorry there's no excuse for this one. i had 1(one) stray thought while going to bed one night and everything spiraled from there. also side note shiro doesn't actually hate bottoming. he just really, really likes topping. does keith like bottoming? stay tuned to find out ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
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> [twitter](https://twitter.com/palavin_)
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> please please please leave some comments and kudos if you liked it !!!!! it'll make me write faster i swear


	2. Chapter 2

Some other time turns out to be a week later.

It isn’t on  _purpose_. It turns out that it’s hard to actually  _plan_ sex between all the fighting and training they do.

Usually they fall into bed perfectly naturally on their own. A blow job here and there, some thigh-frottage if Shiro’s feeling frisky during the night  _—_  it doesn’t matter. Sex is almost always a spontaneous thing for them.

“How about Tuesday?” Keith asks, squinting at the calendar he’s holding. He tore it off the wall in frustration about two minutes ago, and Shiro must be frustrated too, because he doesn’t even raise his face from where it’s buried in the comforter and groans. Shiro’s got his entire front half sprawled across the bed, almost taking up the whole space.

“Can’t,” Shiro says, muffled by the bed. “Allura wants me and Pidge to program some new combat simulations.”

“And that’ll take all day?” Keith snorts, furrowing his eyebrows. He brushes back the hair from his face, and when that doesn’t work, he ties it in a tight knot above his head with the hair tie Allura gave him.

Shiro lifts his head to give him a pout. “Baby, you act like I  _want_ to get smacked around by a robot for an entire afternoon.”

“You wouldn’t get smacked around,” Keith reasons, though he knows how hard Pidge goes when she programs that thing. It’s just hard to imagine anything smacking  _Shiro_ around. “What about the evening?”

Shiro’s mouth presses into a flat line. A guilty look settles in his expression.

Suddenly, it clicks.

“Seriously, Shiro?” Keith asks, smacking the calendar to his face. “Monsters and Mana night?”

“Pidge joined the campaign,” Shiro defends weakly. “Baby, don’t be mad. You can come too.”

“You’re going to pick a board game over fucking me?” Keith asks, his grip tightening on the calendar.

He knows that’s not fair. Monsters and Mana is a little more interactive than a board game, first off, and it’s also one of the only things Shiro genuinely enjoys that doesn’t involve Keith somehow. Keith is honest enough with himself to admit that sometimes they’re unhealthily attached.

Still, for someone who seemed so into the idea before, now Keith’s starting to wonder if Shiro really wants it. Unconsciously, his shoulders set, haughty.

A pair of strong arms wrap around him from behind, and Keith jolts. Shiro presses a kiss to Keith’s hair, then rests his cheek on his head. “I’d push you against the wall and fuck you right now if I could,” Shiro says, and then he pushes his hips against Keith’s ass.

“Oh,” Keith says eloquently.

Shiro chuckles behind him, chest rumbling. His huge, half-hard dick presses against the crack of Keith’s ass. “I can cancel Monsters and Mana.”

“Don’t,” Keith says, pushing his ass back. Shiro’s hip give an involuntary shift against him. “Nerd.”

“Mmm,” Shiro murmurs, nosing along the back of Keith’s neck. He stops under his ear, pausing to bite the shell of it, making Keith jolt against him. “I can tell you all about my Paladin — “

“Your dirty talk sucks,” Keith snorts, which is a lie, because Shiro can be downright filthy when they’re fucking.

 _(“Oh, Keith, baby, you feel so good in me, just like that. Harder, pound me into the mattress, god, yes, I love you —"_ )

The thick line of Shiro’s bulge presses against him, startling Keith from those thoughts, and it’s so fucking tempting to just jump face first into the bed and let Shiro take him. But they’ve got some rebel supplies to transport tomorrow, and Shiro doesn’t want to do this before anything important, considering Keith probably won’t be able to walk the next day.

Shiro’s dick twitches against him.

Suffice to say, Keith  _definitely_ wouldn’t be able to walk the next day.

“Baby, can I blow you?” Shiro asks, kissing a line across his shoulder.

“You’re the hard one right now,” Keith says, even as he turns in Shiro’s arms to face him.

Shiro bites his lip, sheepish. “I’ve been thinking about it all day,” he admits, moving to cup where Keith is growing hard in his boxers. “You pick a day, and I’ll reschedule anything that comes up.”

As Shiro lowers himself to his knees, Keith stares contemplatively at the calendar. Tuesday is a no go, even if the reason is sort of stupid. He crosses that out just as Shiro starts rucking up his shirt, pressing reverant kisses to Keith’s stomach, running both of his hands across his abs. The kisses are open mouthed and sloppy, and when Keith looks down, Shiro’s giving him a particularly dopey look.

“Have I ever told you how cute you are when you’re frustrated?” Shiro asks, making Keith flush red. He buries his face in the calendar, and Shiro’s laughter echoes in the room. “C’mon, baby. Don’t be shy. Let me see you.”

“I’m not shy,” Keith mutters peevishly. To prove his point, he wriggles his hips in Shiro’s grip and gasps when he gets a sharp nip to his hip bone in turn. Shiro’s Galra hand comes up and thumbs at Keith’s nipple under his shirt, and Keith peers over the calendar to watch as Shiro peels down the waistband of his boxers.

Shiro stares at Keith’s cock like he’s a man starving, and Keith unconsciously swallows. “Love how hard you get for me,” he murmurs, and then he’s sinking down.

***

The next day, Keith’s transporting the rebel supplies. Since Red is the fastest, they usually have Keith on delivering duty, which is fine. Usually. Unfortunately, a couple of Galra cruisers have made Shiro antsy enough that he’s sending Lance with Keith to run the supplies together. And that normally wouldn’t be a problem either, except Pidge is adjusting something with the Blue Lion’s sensors, so that means that Lance is currently hovering over Keith in Red’s cockpit.

( _“What’s the point of bringing Lance?” Keith asks, perplexed. “He’s useless without his lion.”_

_“Hey!”_

_Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Safety in numbers, Keith.”_ )

Keith shifts in his seat, wincing. Shiro didn’t just blow him yesterday. They actually worked up to four fingers, which is a feat in and of itself. Shiro’s hand are huge.

And, as much as he loved it at the time, Shiro might have been onto something with sort of rushing things. Four fingers felt great yesterday. Today? Not so much.

Keith’s grip tightens on Red’s controls. He focuses back on the designated route Coran laid out for him, but his ass still hurts with the phantom ache of Shiro’s fingers.

Meanwhile, Lance is giving him a suspicious side eye.

Oh no, Keith thinks.

“You seem sort of squirmy today,” Lance comments, his voice faux nonchalant.

Keith stares forward, even though there’s nothing but empty space in front of them. “Oh yeah?” he asks, equally casual.

“Yeah,” Lance says, squinting. His hand comes up to sit on the headrest behind Keith’s head, and then Lance is way too far in his personal space. Lance examines his face, seemingly interested in Keith’s expression.

Eventually, Keith can’t take it anymore, and he’s swatting Lance away. “What are you doing?”

Lance pouts, making a comical and stupid kissy face. “Keith, I’ve always loved you — “

“Har har,” Keith says, shoving his face away. “Yeah right.”

“I’d treat you better,” Lance says, which is stupid, because Keith’s pretty sure nobody could treat him better than Shiro does. “I don’t have a monster dick like him.”

“Maybe I like Shiro’s monster dick,” Keith mutters, and then his eyes widen as he realizes what he’s done. It’s too late, and Keith settles in with the reality of his grave mistake.

Lance jumps, whooping. “Keith Kogane, I knew it, you  _are_ a size — “

Keith actually jumps up to slap a hand over Lance’s mouth. Red rumbles unhappily at being unattended, but Keith has priorities. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

Lance’s lips curve under Keith’s hand, and he licks his gloved palm. Keith dry heaves, and Lance looks a bit like the cheshire cat when Keith rips his hand away. “Did you have a nice  _talk_ with Shiro?”

The color drains from Keith’s face. “It’s not that obvious,” he says, desperate.

“You limped all the way to your lion,” Lance mocks. “And he sent me with you.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Keith asks, at a loss.

“You seriously didn’t notice,” Lance says in complete disbelief. He pinches Keith’s cheeks between his fingers, examining his expression, and Keith laments losing his rival status with Lance, because Lance doesn’t understand the concept of personal space. “Oh my god. Pidge and Hunk aren’t going to believe this.”

“Believe what?” Keith asks, testy and exasperated. He shoves Lance’s hands away, sitting back down in the pilot chair to adjust Red back on course. “We didn’t even fuck. There wasn’t — there was no dick and ass contact. Just … fingers.”

“Wait,” Lance says, shocked, putting a hand over his mouth and looking stressed. “Oh no. This is worse than we thought.”

“What are you talking about?” Keith asks, exasperated.

“He's so,  _so_  lost on you, dude. He made puppy dog eyes at you the entire time we were loading Red’s cargo bay,” Lance explains, doing that gesture with his hand again. “Like, every time you looked away, he’d look so guilty.”

Keith blinks. “Guilty?”

“The guilt of a man who spent all night fucking his 5’5 lover with his monster dick,” Lance sums up, always helpful.

One time, Shiro mentioned something about being able to enter the Black Lion’s consciousness. Keith sort of wonders what he wouldn’t give to slide into the Red Lion’s consciousness, and go as far away from this conversation as physically and mentally possible.

As it stands, Keith can only beg Red with his mind to hurl him out into space.

Silence.

Keith sighs. “Yeah, well, he’s being weird about it.”

Lance leans against the chair. “Weird how? More over-protective? Enough to send me with you on some routine deliveries?”

“I don’t know,” Keith says, getting irritated. He wants to smack his face against Red's console. “He’s never going to fuck me.”

“Don’t worry,” Lance comforts, putting a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “You’ll get that deep dicking eventually.”

Keith ducks his head, eyebrow twitching. “Lance.”

“Papa Kogane didn’t raise no wimp."

“Lance.”

“You’re a true Gryffindor, champ.”

“ _Lance_.”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“ _Please_ shut up.”

***

Everything goes smoothly. Or as smooth as things can go with Lance for company. It turns out that dragging him along was totally unnecessary, but Keith doesn’t bring it up to Shiro.

Shiro, who apparently feels guilty about using four fingers yesterday. Guilty enough to be over-protective and send Lance with him to deliver the supplies to rebel space stations, even though those are always routine. It shouldn’t be so shocking. Shiro practically lives to take care of Keith.   

“Hey,” Shiro says when Keith finally steps out of the hangar. Keith just got done shucking off his armor and putting on his casual clothes, but he still has helmet hair. Shiro’s hand comes up and brushes down some of the errant strands of hair on Keith's head, eyes hopelessly fond. “Glad you’re back.”

Keith glances around. Lance split early, saying something about meeting Hunk and Pidge in the kitchen to see if they could make any new flavors for the goo. Keith was considering joining them, but he knew it would ease Shiro’s nerves if he saw him first.

The coast is clear. Keith reaches up and pulls Shiro down into a heady kiss, and Shiro makes a noise in his mouth and melts into it.

When they pull back, both of them are a little spit-slick and gross. Keith wraps his arms around Shiro’s shoulders, and they settle against the wall together.

Keith’s ass protests all the movement, but it's easy to ignore now that he knows it bothers Shiro. “You don’t feel guilty about fingerfucking me, do you?”

Shiro blinks, a little caught out. He’s not a good liar at all. “Not — not in the slightest,” he says.

Keith can see right through him. “Shiro. Did it seem like I didn’t like it?”

“No,” Shiro admits, expression contorting. “But you were limping this morning.”

“It was four fingers. Of course I limped. Everyone limps after a good fuck,” Keith says, and then, more pointed: “I make you limp all the time.”

Shiro swallows. “That’s different, baby.”

“How?” Keith asks, raising a brow.

Keith knows he’s got him when Shiro’s lips press into a flat line instead of answering.

Keith moves so that he’s practically clinging to Shiro, and he leans forwards to whisper in his ear. “It’s hot,” he murmurs, gaze heavy-lidded.

“Hot?” Shiro echoes, finally looking a little conflicted.

“Yeah,” Keith says, pressing a thigh between Shiro’s legs. Already, he can feel the tell tale swell of Shiro’s dick hardening in those tight pants he wears. “Reminds me of you. Makes me think of you fucking me with your fingers every time I move.”

“God, Keith,” Shiro says, strained. “Baby — “

Keith reaches around to palm the muscled globes of Shiro’s ass. “And that’s just me thinking of your fingers,” he says, moving to trail kitten licks down Shiro’s neck. “Imagine how hot it’d be if I was limping from your dick.”

Suddenly, footsteps echo down the hallway, clicking cheerfully. Shiro and Keith freeze.

“Number four! Number two wanted to know what flavor — oh, my stars!”

Oh no, is Keith’s first thought.

Shiro and Keith don’t even move. They’re completely frozen, save for the way both of them crane their necks to look at Coran, whose got both of his bushy eyebrows raised at the scene presented to him.

As far as ways to kill a mood go, Keith reckons that Coran catching them probably ranks pretty high up there. It might even be number one.

“C-Coran!” Shiro stammers out, pushing Keith away and holding him by the shoulders at arms length.

Keith thinks it’s kind of stupid, because the damage is already done, and it is sort of their fault for doing this in the hallway anyways.

In retrospect,  _of course_  Coran would find them like this.

Unfortunately, Shiro holding Keith away means there’s nothing stopping Coran from seeing just how much they’d worked each other up before getting caught. Both of their tight pants definitely don’t.

And then, impossibly, because this is apparently the  _worst_ timeline —

Coran’s eyes trail down. But it’s not Keith’s crotch he’s looking at.

“Oh, my stars,” Coran says again, faint, looking at the obvious and frankly  _huge_ bulge in Shiro’s pants. He holds up his arms, eyes wide with shock. “I’ll just be leaving now, paladins! Don’t stop on my account!”

Coran turns abruptly on his heels and power walks away at a speed that is truly impressive.

Now even Coran knows about Shiro’s giant, huge dick. Keith takes a moment to let that sink in. Neither of them say anything for a full thirty seconds. Keith’s wondering if Shiro wants the floor to swallow him whole as much as Keith does.

Silence.

“Shiro,” Keith says.

“Not a word,” Shiro says.

“Shiro,” Keith says again. His shoulders start to shake.

“He — He caught us,” Shiro says in complete incredulous wonder. “Coran caught us about to have sex.”

Both of them burst out into laughter. Keith clutches his stomach, leaning onto Shiro for support while Shiro buries his face into Keith’s neck to try and contain his laughter. Tears genuinely gather at Keith’s eyes as he realizes the hilarity of their situation. Keith's laughing so hard he almost can't breathe.

“He gave us his blessing,” Keith wheezes, thunking his head into Shiro’s shoulder. “Now you have no excuse not to fuck me,” he adds, wry. It’s a joke.

Shiro blinks, sobering up. Considering.

“Shiro,” Keith says.

Contemplative silence.

“Don’t tell me — ” Keith begins slowly, careful with his next words. He almost doesn’t want them to be true. “ — that all you needed was Coran’s blessing.”

Shiro’s lips press into a flat line.

Keith swallows. He tries to put on a brave face. “If I— If I don’t say anything about the fact that you will only fuck me under Coran’s blessing,” he starts, closing his eyes. “Will you carry me to bed right now and finally,  _finally_ put your dick in my ass?”

Shiro nods solemnly. “That’s fair.”

***

Thankfully, they don’t run into anybody else on their way back to their room. Keith has his legs curled securely around Shiro’s waist, while Shiro grips the back of his thighs and carries him down the hall. They stop occasionally for Shiro to pin him down against the wall to give him some bruising kisses, but eventually they make it to their room.

Their clothing is more or less ripped off in their haste, and Keith doesn’t have time to tease Shiro about his eagerness because he can’t get a word in edgewise. Every time he tries to open his mouth, Shiro just takes it as another opportunity to fuck him with his tongue.

Eventually, Keith falls onto their bed and sprawls out on his back, lavishly spreading his legs.

Shiro’s eyes go dark and hot for a moment, but then it’s gone in an instant. “It’s easier on your knees or stomach,” he explains, reaching towards the bedside drawer for the lube.

Keith blinks. His lips quirk. “You got a lot of experience with this?”

Shiro rolls his eyes, but it’s almost ridiculously fond. “Ha ha,” he says, deadpan. Keith can tell that he’s fighting a smile. Shiro taps his thigh. “Come on, baby. You don’t want to take my dick missionary.”

Keith raises his eyebrows, but he does as Shiro says. He rolls over onto his stomach, and Shiro adjusts his position. The attention to detail would be annoying if it wasn’t so endearing. Shiro positions a pillow under Keith’s hips, adjusting how far his legs are from each other.

It takes a moment for it to sink in, but Keith turns his face to the side of the comforter to smirk up at Shiro. “So you have thought about this a lot.”

Shiro kisses the small of his back, breath hot on Keith’s skin. “What makes you think that?”

“You’re wrapping me up like a present,” Keith replies, stretching his legs, wriggling his butt a bit. Shiro gives him a light love tap to his right cheek and readjusts his position again.

“I just want to make sure this is good for you,” Shiro admits, kissing his shoulderblade. “I don’t want you to think you have to do this just because it’s something I want.”

“Shiro,” Keith says, closing his eyes. He’s come to terms with this. It’s time to tell Shiro. “I love your dick. I’m — I’m a size queen — king. Whatever it is. I want you to shove your dick up my asshole and fuck me into this bed.”

The honest and blunt approach seems to work. Shiro gives a slightly hysterical laugh. “I can’t believe I got so lucky,” he says.

It sounds like it was meant to be a joke, but the effect is ruined by how honest and fond it comes out.

Keith looks back just in time to catch Shiro’s flush. However, Keith is merciful. “Are you just going to have me lie around here all day, or are you at least going to finger-fuck me?”

“That’s my baby,” Shiro says, and that sounds hopelessly fond too. He wets his fingers with lube and presses one against the tight rim of Keith’s hole. “Spitfire.”

“Your spitfire,” Keith agrees. Shiro has nice hands. They’re big and capable, and his fingers are always so skilled and dexterous. Keith curls around one of the pillows, completely blissed out.

Taking one finger is nothing. Two fingers is easy. Three poses a challenge, but Shiro brushes his prostate on every other stroke, and then Keith’s making a mess of the pillow as he begins to drool onto it. He ruts his cock into the bedspread, moaning, all soreness from yesterday forgotten.

Shiro doesn’t give him any quarter, either. As soon as Keith’s relaxed, he presses in four fingers, and Keith lets out a stuttering breath.

In the grand scheme of things, four fingers isn’t a lot. He’s had this many before, because, again, Shiro likes to give it and Keith sort of likes to take it. It’s honestly a miracle that Shiro ever bottoms, and Keith is reminded of that when Shiro pulls out to the last knuckle, only to push all four back in.

“Good, baby?” Shiro asks, eyes flicking up to him. His voice is raspy and low, and Keith will never get tired of how his eyes glint in the dim light. Shiro isn’t possessive by nature, but the way he’s looking at Keith now almost makes it seem like he is.

Shiro also really, really likes to watch Keith take what he gives him.

Keith nods, breath stuttering again as those long and thick fingers sink back in. “It’s — a lot,” he manages, turning his face to the side. His eyes close, eyebrows furrowed while he consciously makes an effort to relax. The gentle movements of Shiro’s fingers stop, and Keith grits his teeth. “A-Ah ... Sh-Shiro, keep going.”

Light, feathery kisses are pressed to the knobs of Keith's spine. “Tell me if it’s too much,” Shiro murmurs, full of heat as he resumes pressing his fingers as deep as they’ll go into Keith.

See, the problem isn’t necessarily the girth of Shiro’s dick. In all honesty, taking the first half of Shiro’s dick wouldn’t be so hard, but again, Shiro is just as long as he is thick. The real trouble comes with the length. Since Keith doesn’t do things by halves, he’s determined to take Shiro’s entire dick in one sitting.

“Look at you,” Shiro rasps against the skin of Keith’s thigh after a moment or two. His gaze is heavy and hot on where his fingers are breaching Keith, and Keith spares a moment to be glad that he isn’t prudish.

It’s still embarrassing being so exposed.

“Sh-Shiro,” Keith manages, panting as he tries shifting to cover up some, but Shiro isn’t having any of it. He pries Keith’s legs apart again, and just that has Keith dripping onto the pillow underneath his hips.

“So open for me. You’d take me right now if you could,” Shiro murmurs, and Keith gives a little keen.

And then his fingers shift right over Keith’s prostate, and Keith gives a jolt and smacks a hand over his mouth before he yells and lets everyone know just what they’re doing. His hand is wet in seconds.

Keith wants to bury his face in the comforter. Shiro’s making him  _drool_.

Shiro’s moves, reaching up to pull Keith’s hand down from his mouth. “Let me hear you, baby,” he says, but Keith knows that all he’ll do if he opens his mouth is babble incoherently, so he’s sucking the thumb of Shiro’s Galra hand into his mouth to distract him. It works. Shiro’s eyes go heavy-lidded and dark. “Fuck, Keith,” he groans, swirling his thumb over Keith’s tongue.

Keith releases Shiro’s thumb from his lips with a pop. He doesn’t get a chance to say something snarky, because Shiro’s pulling his pinky from Keith’s hole. Keith’s eyebrows furrow, ready to question just what Shiro thinks he’s doing, but then three fingers plunge back into him, and —

Keith shouts. “Fuck!”

Shiro doesn’t let up. He’s finger-fucking Keith in earnest now, and Shiro shoves two fingers in his mouth to stifle his moans. Keith doesn’t think he’s ever been this loud. He doesn’t even know why he’s so worked up.

Maybe it’s the fact that Shiro’s being so rough.

He tries to speak around Shiro’s fingers, to beg or plead, but he can’t get a word in edgewise around the fingers stuffed down his throat, or the fingers pile driving into his ass. It’s — almost rough and demanding, which is unheard of for Shiro.

And then, after a minute or so of the nonstop finger-fucking, Shiro slows his movements, curling his fingers inside of Keith. He brushes his prostate once, twice, and then —

Keith spills all over the bedsheets, cock spurting without even being touched. He doesn’t even have the capability to be awed he came untouched, because Shiro isn’t relenting, not until Keith’s making these achy and wounded sounds.

Shiro pulls his fingers out. Keith thighs are sticky with lube. His stomach and the bedsheets are covered in come. He keeps his eyes scrunched, lashes wet and fluttering as Keith shakes weakly from the intensity of his orgasm.

Distantly, he can feel himself gathered into those strong arms, but his mind is too fried to comprehend it. Shiro’s pressing kisses on every part of Keith he can reach, and Keith comes back down enough to hear him whispering praise, as cool and soothing as water.

“That’s it, baby, you did so good for me,” Shiro babbles, pausing to kiss behind Keith’s ear. “So pretty for me. God, I can’t believe you came without even being touched, you’re so hot. Perfect, my perfect baby … “

Keith lets the words soak in. Eventually, he comes back to himself. Shiro’s leaning against the headboard of the bed, Keith pulled against his chest and seated firmly in his lap.

Shiro noses along Keith’s neckline. “Back yet?”

Keith huffs, tossing his head back to lay it on Shiro’s shoulder. He feels boneless. “You fucked my brains out,” he says, honest.

“Was that okay?” Shiro asks, sounding uncertain. He smooths a palm over Keith’s thigh, and Keith melts into the contact. “I know — I know it’s rougher than how we usually go.”

“I love it when you fuck me senseless,” Keith admits, biting his lip. He feels the hard (and huge) line of Shiro’s dick twitch against him just at the words. Catching on, Keith turns his face to start nipping at Shiro’s neck. “I love it when you give it to me like I deserve. When you just hold me down and take me.”

“Keith,” Shiro murmurs, his muscles flexing in restraint. “Baby, please.”

“Tell me what you need,” Keith says, shifting so that Shiro’s cock rubs against his ass. “You can — you can fuck me now. I think I’m ready.”

Shiro scrunches his eyes closed, pained. “Let me open you up some more.”

Keith turns his head so he can look at Shiro fully. Their eyes meet for one heated, charged second, and Keith’s lashes flutter. “Please,” he manages, choked.

Immediately, Shiro’s cupping his face and whispering sweet things right into Keith’s ear. “You’re alright, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

And then, finally, finally, Shiro’s reaching for the lube again. Keith positions himself back onto his stomach, his cock still half-hard. Shiro pours a frankly liberal amount all over his cock, dripping some more over Keith’s hole, and then he’s swallowing and positioning himself atop of Keith. And Keith  —

Really, really likes how it feels with Shiro on top of him. Shiro’s hand curls in the comforter next to Keith, while his other hand holds his ridiculous dick against the tight stretch of his hole.

A shift, and then the head is pressing in. Keith does his best to relax, but there’s nothing to stop his hole from protesting the initial stretch of the head. There was a time when Keith thought that taking the head would be the easy part — now Keith is realizing his mistake. No part of taking Shiro’s dick is easy.

Shiro’s dick is gigantic, and Keith doesn’t think he’s ever realized it so much as in this exact moment. But the lube and stretching have done the job, and soon the head is shifting in.

Both of them gasp. Shiro’s fingers are tearing the bedsheet next to Keith’s head. Keith grips the pillow and bites into it to quiet his shout.

It feels — fucking awful, honestly. Only the head of Shiro’s huge dick is in him, and it still feels like so much. Too much. Keith can feel Shiro’s thighs straining from where they’re straddling him, and it’s then that he realizes Shiro is fighting for control, that Shiro is resisting the urge to just bury himself as deep as he can go into the tight clutch of Keith’s ass.

 _Hot_ , Keith thinks, groaning. Without even thinking, his hips twitch back, trying to take more of that huge cock inside of him.

He doesn’t get more than an inch before Shiro’s gripping his hips enough to bruise. But the efforts weren’t wasted, because Shiro’s panting is loud and desperate.

“Keith, baby, hahhh ... “ Shiro chokes out. There’s a pause, and Keith wonders if Shiro’s watching his hole stretch around his cock, watching the way his muscles try to fight the gigantic invasion. He gets his answer seconds later. “Fuck, look at you … God, Keith, your ass … “

Keith wants to say something snarky. He wants to say anything at this point, really, but the more dick he gets in his ass, the less capacity he has for words. It seems to be direct cause and effect. The higher the dick in ass ratio, the lower his coherency.

“Sh-Shiro,” Keith exhales, achy and wounded. Shiro peppers kisses along the knobs of his spine, gentle and soothing.

“Does it hurt?” Shiro asks, sounding ragged. Keith doesn’t know what expression he makes, but something in it makes Shiro crumple. “Oh, Keith, baby, hold — hold still while I — “

And then he’s pulling out. Keith makes a desperate noise and reaches back blindly to stop him.

“No!” Keith gasps. He grips the bedsheets, and Shiro’s hand comes from behind to interlock their fingers. “Shiro, please.”

“I’m hurting you,” Shiro says, choked.

“N-No,” Keith says, or at least tries to. It comes out mangled. He can’t form the words necessary to tell Shiro that he wants this, so he shifts his body so that he’s splayed out on his knees more, and then he’s pulling Shiro’s hand down to cup his hard and leaking cock. His  _very_  hard and leaking cock. “A-Ah ... Want you.”

Shiro makes a noise of surprise. “Oh, Keith … “

“Please,” Keith manages, rocking into Shiro’s grip, whining.

“Okay, baby,” Shiro soothes, exhaling a shaky breath. He slides in another couple of inches, and Keith knows realistically that it can't be a lot, but it  _feels_  like a lot. It feels like too much and not enough. And there’s still so much left. “You feel so good, God, Keith, I never — never could have imagined how good you’d feel … “

It feels like it goes on forever. For one horrifying second, Keith thinks that Shiro’s dick is endless. But eventually, he shifts in about until there’s only about a quarter of his dick left to be stuffed in Keith’s ass. Shiro stops there, gasping and resting his forehead onto Keith’s shoulder blade.

Keith’s rim burns. Shiro’s so deep it makes him want to gag. And his own cock leaks precome all over the pillow under his hips.

“All the way,” Keith demands, shifting his hips back, clenching his fingers when that makes him ache with it. “Shiro — “

“I know, baby, I know, you don’t have to take it all,” Shiro whispers, sitting up again and brushing back his hair. Keith jerks when he feels Shiro’s cock twitch. He can imagine all the precome Shiro’s spurting inside of him.

“All the way,” Keith demands again. He’s determined to take it all. He doesn’t do things by halves.

“Alright,” Shiro murmurs. And then, impossibly, finally —

Shiro’s hips meet Keith’s ass. He can feel Shiro’s heavy balls against his cheeks.

Keith smacks his head into the comforter and sighs with relief. He feels — weird, oddly disconnected from his body, but also never more present with it. Nothing could bring someone to the present like Shiro’s monster dick in their ass, Keith guesses. It sucks him back to reality.

Shiro is shaking behind him, thighs quaking and tensing above Keith’s. He can feel the tightly grasped control just in the way Shiro’s so quiet.

Keith’s ass burns. It hurts so good, and that just makes his cock leak right onto the pillow beneath him. God, the ache is turning him on more than he’d thought it would. Keith turns his head to the side, a keen and fierce quirk to his lips. “T-Told you I could — could take it … “

Shiro gives a shaky, incredulous laugh, his eyes full of love and adoration and heat. He leans down and peppers kisses to Keith’s head, twitching abruptly when Keith wriggles his hips.

“Yeah, baby, you took all of it,” he manages, and Keith has never heard Shiro sound so winded before. “Oh, god, you’re so — so tight.”

Shiro’s dick is so fucking huge that anything would feel tight. It’s stretching him so far, and he’s so deep Keith feels like he can taste it. His own cock gives a weak twitch underneath him, drooling out precome.

“Shiro, please,” Keith pleads, fingers digging into the sheets underneath him.

“What do you need?” Shiro asks huskily, right into his ear.

“ _Fuck_ me,” Keith says, plaintive.

“Hahh, baby — “

“Just — move — “

Shiro exhales a shaky breath, and then his cock is shifting in Keith. He’s pulling back ever so slightly, just a couple of inches. Keith keens, jolting, and Shiro’s sinking back in so — so deep.

“Fuck, fuck,” Keith gasps, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He presses his face to the bed so Shiro won’t see, so he won’t have to explain how much this is turning him on. It’s not pain that’s making him cry. It feels so good. “O-Oh — “

“The sounds you’re making,” Shiro murmurs, choked, continuing those little rocking motions. Just a few inches, but Keith feels it all the way down to his fucking bones. Suddenly, Shiro stops. “Keith, baby, you’re — you’re crying.”

Shiro sounds so horrified.

Keith gives a shaky, incredulous laugh, palming the wetness from his eyes now that the gigs up. “A-Ah, you feel so good — don’t stop, Shiro, right there — “

“You’re crying,” Shiro says again, still horrified.

“I like how it hurts,” Keith admits, biting his lip until it bleeds. Shiro’s hand comes around, and sure enough Keith is hard in his grasp. Keith doesn’t know what Shiro was expecting. It’s pretty obvious that he’s getting off on this, way more than he should be. “C’mon, Shiro. Give it to me.”

“Jesus, Keith,” Shiro breathes. Keith thinks Shiro might chicken out now after all, but then he’s pulling back, and pulling back, and that’s more than a couple inches —

And then he slams back in.

Keith yells. “Fuck!”

It goes on like that for awhile. Shiro fucks him into the mattress, never quite bottoming out, but that’s okay, because his huge dick more than makes up for that. Keith’s just glad he’s had it all in him at one point.

The thrusts are fast and jarring, and Keith is holding onto the bedsheets beneath him for dear life.  Shiro happily pounds away.

Keith doesn't know if Shiro has ever fucked him so thoroughly. His hole eventually stops trying to clench around Shiro's dick, offering zero resistance, and relents itself to get pounded.

Heat starts to build deep inside of Keith, his cock leaking profusely now. Shiro moves so that he can properly reach beneath Keith and grip his cock, but Keith shakes his head furiously, gritting his teeth.

“I’m — I’m going to cum,” he gasps, hoping Shiro can get the meaning.

After a couple of seconds of Shiro’s huge dick sliding right over his prostate, Keith’s breath hitches. The pleasure and pressure builds into a crescendo.

Keith cries out when Shiro presses a hand down between his shoulderblades, holding him down while his pace grows more punishing. There's no hope holding on after that. Shiro's dick keeps pounding his ass, drawing out these horrible squelching sounds.

"That's it, baby, come for me, show me how much you like my giant cock in your ass," Shiro snarls right into Keith's ear, shocking Keith with the words. "God, baby, feels like you're sucking me in — "

"Shiro!" he shouts, pressing his forehead to the sheets, his cock spurting completely untouched. He doesn’t even have time to marvel at the fact that he’s come untouched  _again_ , because Shiro isn’t relenting.

He fucks Keith for another minute like that, just taking, and Keith grips a pillow to his chest and honest to god whines. It's all he's ever wanted — for Shiro to be rough with him, to just take what he needs, and even the oversensitivity feels good.

Eventually, Shiro's brutal pace begins to stutter after taking his fill. “Keith, baby, where — “

“Inside, Shiro, inside, c’mon,” Keith pants, his body shaking with oversensitivity. His eyelashes clump together with tears.

Shiro doesn’t need to be told twice. He bottoms out again, causing Keith to keen, and then Shiro’s dick is twitching inside of him, blowing what has to be a ginormous load inside of his ass just for how long it goes.

"K-Keith," Shiro breathes on a whiny exhale. He slumps down on top of him, gasping for breath, his cock still twitching weakly inside Keith's abused hole.

Keith spaces out after that. He knows Shiro is whispering praises, and Keith lets them wash over him. Shiro cleans him up, as well as the frankly huge load that’s currently leaking out of Keith’s ass, and then pulls him close. Keith’s eyes droop. He’s falling asleep before he can thank Shiro properly, fucked right to the brink of passing out.

Completely, utterly wrecked. 

***

Shiro wakes with Keith curled in his arms. It’s his favorite way to wake up, and a dopey grin settles on his face. If sleeping was supposed to dull his afterglow, then it did a poor job of it. Shiro feels lighter than air. He actually fucked Keith into the bed last night. Keith took it, begged for more, and ended up coming untouched until Shiro came inside.

It felt too good. Almost like it had to have been a dream.

Keith grumbles under the weight of Shiro’s adoring stare. “Isn’t it early for you to be sappy?”

“Baby,” Shiro says, emotional. “I love you. Last night meant so much to me.”

Keith begrudgingly peeks open an eye, blushing. "Love you too," he murmurs, leaning in for a quick kiss that’s only marginally ruined by morning breath, and then he’s shuffling to settle in Shiro’s lap. And this is one of Shiro’s favorite ways to wake up, too, and he’s about to tell Keith that, when —

“Fuck!” Keith exclaims, making Shiro jump.

“Keith, baby, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Shiro asks, a little panicked. He soothes his hands down Keith’s sides, hurried, looking for any sort of injury.

Keith buries his face into the bedspread, giving a strangled laugh. “Shiro. My ass.”

“Oh,” Shiro says, a little downcast. “I’m sorry, baby. You’re sore?”

Keith gives him a flat look. Shiro wilts.

“Really, really sore,” Keith admits softly, and he’s not even acting like his usual grumpy self this morning. Shiro’s heart sinks. “Hey, I asked for it. Just — just don’t plan on me leaving the bed today. Okay?”

“Okay,” Shiro says, pressing a kiss to Keith’s cheek. “I’ll go grab us something to eat.”

Keith’s already sinking back to bed, grumbling, and that’s more like him. Shiro sighs with relief.

They must have slept in late, because Lance, Hunk, and Pidge are all gathered at the table already, watching him sort of blankly. Shiro gives them a brief greeting and goes about filling two bowls of goo, feeling their eyes on his back.

“Where’s Keith?” Lance asks, curious. Usually, Keith would still be clinging to Shiro like a limpet at this time in the morning. You'd have to pry him off with a crowbar.

“He’s just not feeling well,” Shiro says. “Long day yesterday. Uh, training.”

“Training,” Hunk echoes.

Silence, and then —

“Yeah, it must be so  _hard_ ,” Lance says.

Pidge’s lips twitch. “I’ve heard he’s got some  _big_ problems.”

“He can only  _take_ so much,” Hunk agrees amiably.

Shiro begins to sweat nervously. He stammers out a goodbye, two bowls of goo in his hands, and shakes his head. There’s no way they could  _possibly_ know.

Right?

No, he’s definitely just imagining things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they been knew, shiro. 
> 
> okay yeah i told myself maybe i shouldn't post size kink porn as my second fic in this fandom but i'm so very weak and look where we are. also did u like that u got to see in real time keith coming to terms with being a size queen? now we just have to wait for him to realize he's a pillow princess. it's a good thing shiro's a service top
> 
> anyways i hope u guys liked this!!! please comment and leave some kudos if you did it it would mean the world to me trust me!!!<3
> 
>  
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/palavin_)


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